Whither Glory?

Before I start, I'd like to remind you about how liberal my views are generally. I tend to believe that people should all coexist peacefully and ignore most of their petty squabbles, but when the blast of war blows in our ears...

War, huh? Yeah. What is it good for?

Not absolutely nothing.

Lots of things have been brewing in my overly-busy, swamped-with-work mind recently about the notion of war. People talk about the day when peace comes to Earth, when no-one fights anymore, when 'war is over if you want it'. This may be provocative, but I think that's bollocks. I think the day that we don't fight, we'll all be either dead or neutered and I'm not interested in being either.

Already, our world is moving in this direction - postmodernism evolved as a reaction to war, an attempt to break down barriers, to recognise that all of us are essentially the same. The problem is that we're not all the same and we should be disagreeing about things, challenging them and yes, fighting for them when they are threatened. This is why postmodernism is so unpopular.

Read this:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

William Butler Yeats wrote that in 1919, after the Great War (not WWI - we need to remember it by its scale). The Irish Airman in the poem is a tragic figure, the poem is haunting and beautiful, one of my favourites, but it is about fighting for all the wrong reasons. Those he fights, he does not hate, those he guards, he does not love - but he should. Because that is the reason for fighting, really - to protect something you love. Any other reason, pride, anger, hatred, these things are not worth killing over, but there are things in this world worth protecting...

The decline of war has cost us something in the world, however - glory. Death is always sad, but given the option, I'd rather die with a yell than a whimper. We are doomed, all of us, to end our lives in a hospital bed surrounded by loved ones. This is an ignoble fate - I don't want my loved ones remembering me that way. I've told a few of my students that my goal as their teacher is to teach them how to be the guy in all those barfight scenes who lifts his glass as people fly by and ignores the chaos around him, enjoying his drink. That guy is always funny. But he's never the main character - which would you rather be?

Read this (or watch this if you're lazy):

Well I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

I wanna good steed under me like my forefathers before

I want a good mount when the bugle sounds and I hear the cannons roar

Well I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

Well I want a horse in a volunteer force that's riding forth at dawn

Please save for me some gallantry that will echo when I'm gone

I beg of you Sarge' let me lead the charge when the battle lines are drawn Let me at least leave a good hoof beat they'll remember loud and long

Well I'd not a good foot soldier make I'd be sour and slow at march

And I'd be sick on a navy ship and the sea would leave me parched

But I'll be first in line if they let me ride by God you'll see my starch

Look back for the heath of the laurel wreath underneath that victory arch

Well I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

I want a good steed under me like my forefathers before

I wanna good mount when the bugle sounds and I hear the cannons roar Well I wanna be in the cavalry if the send me off to war

Let me earn my spurs in the battle's blur when the day is lost or won

I'll wield my lance as the ponies dance and the blackards fire their guns

A sabre keen and a saddle carbine and an Army Remington

When the hot lead screams thourgh the cold, coarse steel let me be a cavalryman

Well I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

And I want a good steed under me like my forefathers before

I want a good mount when the bugle sounds and I hear the cannons roar Well I want to be in the cavalry if I must go off to war

Let them play their flutes and stirrup my boots and place them back to front

'Cause I won't be back on the riderless black and I'm finished in my hunt Well I wanna be in the cavalry if they send me off to war

Well I wanna be in the cavalry but I won't ride home no more

That's what I'm talking about. Songs are written for brave men who die in battle - what's written for those who die in bed?

To sum up, I'm not a gun-waving redneck. I don't think Americans should have the right to carry guns around. But I do believe in every individual's right to think and feel what they want to. Even yours if you disagree with me. We don't fight because we're different, we SHOULD fight because we ARE different. The day we're not, something even greater than glory will be lost.

In closing, let me say:

The Vietnam war - Wrong

Israel - In the Right

America - In the Wrong

Iraq - Also in the Wrong

Afghanistan - Really Really in the Wrong

China - in the Wings, waiting.

and now, onto the God of the day. War - a big one to cast. The ancients had Ares (one bad-@$$ mofo), Onuris (who is in no surviving instance of iconography depicted without a spear or a rope), Bishamon ('the Scourge of evil') and Kali (Hot chick, 6 arms all carrying scimitars, also the goddess of love - go figure...). Who could contend with those guys? Who in real life is hardcore enough to rate as the god of war? I'll tell you who...

Ghengis Khan, God of War

At the tender age of 9, Ghengis killed his brother for a fish. By 30, he had conquered all of Asia. Let me say that again, he had conquered all of the world's largest single land mass. We're not talking about Alexander-esque subjugation where half the people you encounter don't fight, we're talking about brutal, bloody conquest.

This may seem disingenuous with what I was saying earlier about glory and protection, but simply put, no-one else in the history of the world, not Caesar, Alexander, Napoleon, Hitler - none of them was so intimate with war. Tacticians and politicians don't see men dying so much as numbers and positions. Ghengis was there, wielding weapons, drinking and pillaging with his men, waging war from the thick of it. He may not have killed the most people (or he may have, personally), he may not be recent, but there has been no-one else in our world who so embodied the notion of War.

BONUS!

What about Glory then? My brother is going to talk trash at me for months over this, but there's only one obvious candidate...

Leonidas, God of Glory

Spartan King who supposedly led the 300 Spartans against the Persian army at Thermopylae. Irrespective of the numbers at the battle (estimates range from 100,000 to 1,000,000 Persians and 300 to 3000 Spartans), this story is about the legend. A pass. 300 men willing to die for a country that wouldn't support them. So they went out, they fought, they died and they made an example that echoes through the ages. There are plenty of others who have died gloriously, but these guys did it best. Hats off, lads and go not quietly into that good night...

Birthday Blogging

So, I've just turned 29. Any insights? No, not really - just a short post. But I have felt that I'm starting to hit my stride - my powers of cool are growing still. Age is a strange thing in that one's perspective on it changes as we get older - at 15, I thought life ended at 22. At 20, 30 seemed distant. Looking at 30 now, all I can really see is the need to lose some weight by 40. Heaven knows what Avery thinks - is 3 the new 2?

But one important thing that we can all appreciate is aging gracefully - not grumbling too much, looking like you used to, but more distinguished, laughing off jokes about fossils and your name being before Moses on the roll... There is a deceptive art to being graceful and it involves much more than simply getting the Reed Richards racing stripes. It's about letting go of the Angry Young Man that we all hold inside us (well, all of us who are men, anyway). It's about mellowing and recognising that quiet resistance is as effective as violent protest. It's about realising that no matter what younger people think, you ARE still cooler than them. In short, it's about being

George Clooney, God of Grace and Independent Cinema

He is humble, he is elegant, he is Clooney. Elegant and Graceful are terms not generally applied to men, but that's OK because I've just made him a god. George onscreen can be tough, sophisticated, funny, goofy, charming - anything he wants to be really. But it is offscreen where he really wins me over. He has a policy of doing an independent film that he believes in alternately with every blockbuster he makes for a big-name company. As if that in itself weren't enough, he often funds the films himself, he's an active environmentalist and he's one of the sexiest guys ever to get over the 50 mark - I mean look at him - if I were ever going to jump the fence... This is a guy who we would welcome into our homes because we know he'd be an entertaining and gracious guest and even though your sister would fall for him, he'd be too much of a gentleman to do anything about it.

To Clooney, ladies and gents. May the ripe old age of 30 next year see me being just half as cool, charming and of course graceful as he is.

Scienticians, Scientists and Scientologists

Several interesting happenings this week, all to do with science. Some of you may know (and others may have guessed) that, like Man-E-Faces of He-Man fame, I can change personalities simply by spinning the dial on my head (or something). While the personality that hangs around the most is all Englishy and History-oriented, there is a very scientific, analytical me just below the surface. I have a science degree hanging right beside the arts and teaching degrees on the walls and I sometimes despair that I don't get to use it enough. This week, however, has allowed me to stretch some of these muscles. The science-related incidents of the week:

1) 'Sir, do you know any practicing Scientists?'

I was asked this question on Monday and resisted the urge to answer 'no, all of the ones I know already have it right'. Instead, I said 'yeah, I'm a practicing Scientist'. The student asking the question pressed me on this issue, asking what scientific work I had done recently. I didn't even think before saying 'None in particular - Science is a belief, not a daily exercise'.

To me, this is entirely accurate. I think and work logically - that is science. I believe in things that are proven to be true - that is science (and the basis of this whole blogging exercise). My belief system is a scientific one.

Sadly none of this philosophy helped the student, who was doing his science homework and needed someone famous. I told him to look up today's addition to the Pantheon.

2. "Someone should write Kipling's Jungle Book, but set it in a graveyard"

On Tuesday, I went with Luke and a few others to see Neil Gaiman at a talk and signing (and stole this photo from Luke's blog). Neil was reading from 'The Graveyard Book', his new story to be released in October, and he explained that the above was the basis of the story. This got me to thinking about writing and specifically about imagining new stories. Given that there is very little that is new, when we conceive a new idea, are we in fact just using old ideas like Lego bricks or algebra in a formula, plugging them in and coming up with a total? I like to think not (or at least Artsy-Me likes to), instead preferring to imagine that the inspiration of the muses makes each and every story different. Science-Me isn't so sold on the whole idea though...

3. "What's a Scientologist?"

Wednesday, watching Boston Legal, my beloved better half asked me this complex and hard-not-to-laugh-while-answering-kind-of question. With a mostly straight face, I explained L. Ron Hubbard's whackadoo (isn't that a marvellous word?) theories mere seconds before Alan Shore did so far more eloquently. I think I take knowledge, particularly Nerdy knowledge, for granted sometimes. I guess this shows that science is definitely a belief system - if it were a set of actions, it'd be much harder to accept as part of the background to one's life.

4. "Sir, do you believe in God?"

A facetious young man in my Year 8 class asked me this on Friday and, as I value my job, I supported the school's Christian ethos by saying 'yes' and quickly getting back to poetry. Of course, a tremendous number of responses flew through my head in the second before I answered, ranging from 'Not exactly, go read my blog' to 'Please don't be stupider than you already are, you neanderthal', but my sense of self-preservation beat them all to the punch. Still, I have to wonder - is science my religion? Are religions and beliefs necessarily the same thing, or is it all just some silly, semantic game we play? I'm not sure of the answer, but one thing is certain - I love science. I love being scientific. I especially love Evolution and the notion that I can mix yellow and white in a test tube and make purple.

Which brings me to this post's addition to the pantheon. Science is a massive thing, far too great to allocate to any one individual. So today, I am proud to announce the induction of a god who, like me, is not actually what you'd call a practicing scientist, but someone who loves science, particularly the area of science that is dearest to my heart...

Sir David Attenborough, Disciple of Biology

Wait, what's that you say? A God can't be someone else's disciple? Well, you're wrong. The word disciple connotes devotion, duty and connectedness, all things that Sir David has for the natural world. Since the 1950's, this man has worked tirelessly to promote understanding of nature and respect for its beauty, majesty and power. No DVD shelf is complete without one of his documentaries. His iconic voice, so greatly mocked anywhere I appear, is deceptively emotional and revealing, leaving viewers in no doubt about his sheer delight at the world around him. There is no-one in the world, nor has there ever been, who could be so suited to the task of custodian and teacher of nature. He is a gentle soul, slow to anger but righteous in his cause.

The next time you're outside and feel that pull, that indefinable attraction to a green field or rocky shore, say a brief prayer to Sir David and revel in the beauty of sunshine, fresh air and brightly coloured lizards.

What's Wrong With the Old Mythology?

Nothing. But that doesn't mean I can't add to it.

I suppose I should do the whole introduction thing. Hi, my name's Jaime and I'm a netaholic... No, hang on, that's not quite right.

But where are the Gods? The Heroes? Those stories fascinated me in my youth and I always assumed that I'd continue to find things in this world that engaged my imagination in the same way.

I'm a teacher. Technically I teach English, but the more I look into it, the more I feel that a teacher is in fact defined as 'one who teaches' and that subjects are artificial distinctions. I have an 8-month old son named Avery, which is Old English for 'Rules with Elven Wisdom'. That said, I think Elves are geeks.

But at least Mythological geeks! It sickens me that this world has nothing left to believe in unless I want to subscribe to a monotheistic set of orders on how to live my life OR join the cult of the almighty dollar! I long for adventure, for the chance to sail a sea in search of treasure or battle a mighty beast from beyond with only my wits to defend me...

I'm quite witty and quite arrogant if this statement is anything to go by. I think the arrogance is a holdover from my youth as a gamer - many of us pick it up as a social defence against the taunts we endured. I guess if you convince yourself that you're awesome, it becomes so. My brain should be registered as a lethal weapon.

The simple truth is that we need a New Mythology, so I'm going to build one. Each post here will offer up a new God or Hero to my personal pantheon and hopefully offer some context as to who I am and why I would make such choices while trying desperately not to just be a big fanboy. Also, I want to be a writer and need to practice.

So, the first god of my New Mythology:

Neil Gaiman, Lord of Dreams

Yes, it's a bit sordid to start with my favourite author, but what an author! This man has single-handedly changed the way I look at the world. Arguably, I'm plagarising his novel American Gods with this blog... His seemless blending of the worlds of reality and fantasy present a real ray of hope to those of us who see this world as banal and disappointing. Even if bad things happen to good people in his stories, at least those good people had a chance to see something more in their time than the crags that make up the lump of rock we fly through space on. Neil opens up worlds of possibility with his limitless imagination and is a constant source of inspiration to me and legions of others. If you haven't read his work, go do it now - he's a better writer than I am.

Remember, your beliefs are your own. 'Religion' is just a tick-box on the census.